


oculoplania

by hiensou



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, and he's dramatic too, makoto is a big sap, so a love declaration would be chaotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiensou/pseuds/hiensou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ignoring the feelings gradually flourishing for his childhood friend wasn't going to make them go away, but staring in silence seemed like the easier option. Haruka probably (hopefully) hadn't noticed the many glances, anyway.</p><p>Oculoplania - Letting ones eyes wander while assessing someones charms.<br/>(From the MakoHaru Festival on tumblr; prompt: "watching")</p>
            </blockquote>





	oculoplania

   Makoto was prone to completely losing himself in his thoughts, watching his best friend since forever from afar as if Haruka wouldn't ever notice the eyes constantly on him. A tiny sigh left the taller boy, sitting by the kotatsu table in Haruka's house as the latter prepared tea in the kitchen. Outside the window, snowflakes tip-toed their way from heaven to rest on the ground, and while it was a beautiful, radiant sight, the chilly air trickled in through whatever gaps it found and Makoto couldn't wait for the hot tea to be done. His bottle-green orbs darted outside, but the scenery was so tranquil he might just fall asleep from watching too long, and thus he turned back to Haruka, who was wearing an apron despite not actually _cooking_ anything. Makoto thought it must've been out of habit, putting the baby blue apron on whenever he stood in front of the counter. Beneath it, Haruka was wearing a matching blue hoodie and a pair of black pants. His feet were bare, and Makoto could see him curling his toes which longed for the amiable warmth beneath the kotatsu.

   His hair was dark, hanging from his head any way it wanted to, unlike Makoto's which was styled in an intentional little mess that required several kinds of hair products. But Haruka's hair seemed untouched, though Makoto had upon several occasions run his hand through it and could indeed confirm the softness as it'd slip through his fingers right back into place over Haruka's forehead. It was light, thin and easily went static. And Makoto thought too much about his best friend's hair, he realised.

   He cast his gaze downwards as the other boy sat down across from him, placing a tray on the table and burying his lower body underneath it, legs entangled with Makoto's.

   “Smells good,” the latter commented with a gentle smile, waiting for Haruka to pour the hot water into both cups before taking one of them and blowing cautiously. “It's so cold outside.”

   Haruka responded with an affirmative hum, followed by silence blanketing them as they blew on their steaming drinks. The silence was always comfortable between them; Makoto honestly couldn't recall a time when it hadn't been.

   Uncontainable curiosity caused him to look up at his friend once more, his focus now on the lips that formed a circle to push air out in between to cool the tea off. His lips were rather thin, but they looked oh so soft, like a child's pair, almost. Makoto felt his face take on a temperature close to that of the liquid in his cup upon the realisation of how enticing he found those lips across from him, all of a sudden.

   They smiled so rarely. In a way, he wished they wouldn't; Haruka's smiles were definitely one of the most captivating things he knew of. But, he thought, the seldom use of them was probably what made them so special. Had they been constant, perhaps Makoto hadn't felt such a purring twist within him every time the corners of Haruka's lips tugged upwards. Then again, maybe that would make things easier.

 _He's doing it again,_ Haruka thought to himself, the apples of his cheeks ablaze as the pair of droopy, vibrantly olive-green eyes locked on him adamantly. He cleared his throat and peeked up, and the gaze from across instantly seemed to become self-aware and fell downwards. Makoto's cheeks wore a rich hue, and Haruka was sure his matched.

   Why he was always staring, Haruka had no idea. By now it wasn't something that made him particularly uncomfortable, as it had been going on for as long as he could remember, but it still baffled him because Makoto never seemed to grow tired of looking at him. Had Haruka been more bold, it could've been a mutual habit, because Makoto wasn't bad-looking himself. But the shorter male worried that if he allowed himself to be anything but bashful with his glances, he might lose control and reach out to touch.

   Today, he decided to just be blunt, because it was oddly amusing to mess with Makoto sometimes.

   “I can see you looking, you know,” Haruka stated quietly but firmly, as if it wasn't a big deal at all to either of them which was a fat lie.

   “You– What?” Makoto stuttered, alternating between meeting Haruka's eyes and letting his own dart around the room in a nervous frenzy. He could feel goosebumps emerge on his skin out of embarrassment, the warmth of his face spreading to his ears.

   “I see you looking,” he repeated. _I know you think I'm absent but I_ do _pay attention to you_.

   Makoto took a slow sip from his tea, trying to think of what to say. He knew Haruka savoured his personal space, and Makoto's steady watching of him probably invaded it in some way. He figured he'd just apologise.

   “Sorry,” he said with a forced smile, awkward and warm from embarrassment as well as steaming tea held too near his face. “I just, ah... I zone out without realising I'm looking right at you, I guess.” which was a lie, and he hated lying to his best friend because it made his stomach twist, but he told it anyway.

   Haruka's eyebrows pinched together; he didn't believe that. Makoto looked too concentrated, looking at him. Absent in his thoughts, sure, yeah, but they were obviously thoughts connected to his gazes' target. Haruka wasn't sure what to make of that, truth be told, as he didn't even know what thoughts were whirling around in Makoto's head to make him look at Haruka the way he did. The latter really wanted to find out, though.

   “Zone out... thinking about what, exactly?” he asked, blowing some more on his tea before taking a wary sip.

   Makoto fretted inwardly and wished they'd let the subject go. He really, really didn't feel like telling Haruka that with each day passing he found himself wondering about the texture of his childhood friend's lips and the warmth of his cheeks more and more often, only catching himself doing so first when there was a thick lump in his throat.

   Haruka continued upon not receiving an answer quickly enough, “Are you worrying about something?”

   It was sweet of him to show that he cared, Makoto thought, because it was something he knew Haruka usually found hard to do. When he did go out of his way to convey any sort of sympathy or worry, it was vague and ambiguous, and Makoto often felt like the only one able to translate those bashful messages. Every now and then Haruka could be awfully blunt about what he felt, though, which was just as thrilling every time.

   “There's the math test coming up,” Makoto said lamely, “you know angles and Pythagorean Theorem has never been something I'm particularly good at, so I guess...”

   “Makoto.” Haruka interrupted suddenly, surprising them both. Makoto looked nearly frightened where he sat, like a child expecting a harsh scolding. Except Haruka didn't want to lecture him about keeping his gazes few, because he didn't feel exasperated or uncomfortable, receiving them. Confrontation was hard to go through without making it seem accusatory, he found. “I've known you long enough to know when you're lying. See, your thumbs keep rubbing the cup; you're nervous.”

   Makoto simply blinked at him, a deer in the headlights. “Um...” he swallowed, and put the cup down before offering Haruka a small smile, “you're right. I'm sorry.”

   “So are you going to tell me why you're staring?” he sounded grumpier than he felt, and tried to make up for it by giving him a look that was as neutral as he could manage. Makoto had told him once that while his voice or his words sometimes sent one message, his eyes belied him and told a whole different story – one that was most usually the truth.

   “I'd rather not.” Makoto said in what was close to a whisper, still ashamed.

   Haruka felt a sudden torrent of annoyance wash over him and he set his tea cup down a bit too suddenly which caused some of the liquid to be thrown over the edge into a small puddle on the table. He ignored it, eyes fixed on the tall brunette across him, and an expression of clear bitterness clad his face. He scooted his way out of the kotatsu table's hut of warmth, swiftly crawling over to Makoto's side of the table to seat himself beside the latter, surprising him with firm palms against his cheeks.

   Makoto's eyes grew the size of suns and blinked down at Haruka through glowing green, but Haruka hadn't a care in the world if he was scaring Makoto. He held onto his face stubbornly and stared right into it.

   “Haru?” the other exclaimed, voice wobbly.

   “I don't like it when you lie to me.” Haruka remarked with tenacity. “Or when you hide things from me.”

   Makoto stuttered, unable to be coherent when Haruka was breathing him right in the face, fingers long and warm from holding his tea now splayed out over Makoto's crimson cheeks and ears. Slowly, with tremor through his limbs, Makoto put his cup down on the table and let his hands ball into fists resting in his lap.

   “We always tell each other everything... one way or another.” Haruka's voice was softer now, billows of sincere worry within him, as well as slight embarrassment from letting go of his usual taciturnity. _I don't always tell you everything verbally; I'm aware of that, but you find out either way because you know how I work and it's okay._

_Don't hide things from me._

   “I-I'm sorry, Haru, I just...” Makoto's words sounded restrained, the lump in his throat refusing to go down no matter how many times he swallowed. He heaved a sigh, closed his eyes and covered Haruka's hands with his own. “I don't want to tell you, really, because I'm embarrassed, but I suppose you have the right to know.” Gently, he removed Haruka's hands from his face, but kept them in a loose grasp between them. Haruka had known him his entire life, and despite any possible ups and downs, they'd stayed by each other's sides. Surely he wouldn't go running away from Makoto after this... Surely he could handle it and look past it. He hoped so; losing Haruka would be the death of him, no doubt.

   “Haru,” he began quietly, eyes locked on the ground because looking at his friend would make this too hard to get out, “have you ever looked at someone and realised that everything about them is absolutely breathtaking? Their quirks and their habits, the way they tap the pencil against the paper when they're thinking, or the way they scrunch their nose at bad suggestions, or the way they... blow at their tea. And how they look. Have you ever...” he paused, knowing he was spewing unnecessary words, but then continued anyway, because he might as well finish what he started, “...felt as if you're in pain because you want to find out how soft their skin is against your fingers so badly, and how warm their breath is, and how...” his thumb caressed a repetitive circle over Haruka's knuckle, which was a bold move, because with every word he let out he was going too far, and he was sure Haruka felt uncomfortable enough already, “how their lips feel...”

   Haruka was frozen where he sat on the floor and it was as if Makoto's words were drilling into him slowly but painstakingly. They echoed inside his head and it was so hard to register what was being said, but the meaning behind his friend's little monologue was settling in and his touch was burning through Haruka's skin.

   “And every time you look at them you start to realise it's in a different way than you used to, and you're not sure if it's a good or bad thing, but it feels incredible to just acknowledge their presence and remind yourself that they're there with you, while at the same time it's like a clock ticking down 'til you'll go insane.”

   “What are you...”

   “I don't know,” he interrupted with a nervous chuckle and finally looked up to meet Haruka's wide, blue eyes. “And this isn't what you asked me about, but ah... now you know.”

   “I'm... not sure I do, though...” he sounded apprehensive but unafraid. Makoto felt as if he'd just thrown away everything they'd spent their lives developing between them, and just from thinking about that he was suffocating.

   He put his lips between his teeth and his eyes flickered from Haruka's azure gaze to the graceful snowflakes outside. Dropping his hold of Haruka's slender hands, he stood up and made his way to the front door with his friend's eyes still on him.

   “I'll give you time to think. Or not. Actually, I'd prefer it if we just forgot I said any of this,” he felt panic rising within him, quaking his ability to think logically or suitably, and he simply wanted to get out of there as soon as he could, leaving his fiasco of a spontaneous declaration behind. “I'm sorry, Haru. I'm really sorry...” he mumbled to himself, running his hands through his hair and staring at the two pair of shoes in the hallway as if he couldn't make out which belonged to him. Haruka rose from his position by the table and walked out to the hallway after Makoto, unable to form coherent sentences but wanting to tell him to just _calm down_.

   The brunette walked in a tiny circle, rounded the shoes and stared at them as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. “I, ah... I'm... oh god,” he breathed, regretting he'd said what he'd said and wishing he would've just come up with some sort of excuse, even though Haruka had made it very clear that lying was out of the question because it wasn't something they did towards each other. Not the two of them. But Makoto felt now as if that would've been for the better, still.

   “Makoto,” Haruka tried with a stern voice, but the other wouldn't look at him; seemed unshaken from his remorse. “ _Makoto_.”

   The taller male managed to pick his shoes out and put them on quickly, apologised again and headed for the door (without his jacket), but was hindered from making his escape when Haruka surprised them both again by surging forward and with a grip of Makoto's shirt that was so firm his knuckles went white, shoved the larger boy against the wall beside the door. Makoto's back slammed against it and by natural instinct he closed his eyes and grabbed at Haruka's wrists, but let himself be trapped against the wall nonetheless. He sank down a bit where he stood and opened his radiantly green eyes to a face twisting with what looked like anger and concern, before the hands on the front of his shirt unclenched and were on his cheeks just like before – but more tender than earlier – and lips with a faint taste of tea captured his.

   Haruka kissed him with earnest, shivers shooting across his skin that made him press himself even closer to the other, and soon there was a pair of wide hands on his shoulders, his neck, his face, his hair. Makoto didn't seem to know what to do with himself. His breathing was a lot more audible all of a sudden, accompanied by the occasional sounds made by their lips, and the low moan Haruka couldn't help but breathe into Makoto's mouth.

   His hands left Makoto's burning cheeks and instead the raven-haired boy snaked his arms around the other's waist, grabbing two handfuls of Makoto's shirt. He felt so dumb. Hearing Makoto speak of him the way he did had come as a shock to him, it all feeling new and frightening, but he'd realised that he could've been the one in Makoto's shoes if he'd let himself, but instead he'd looked away, refused to question Makoto's glances up until now, and repressed any sensation that bloomed inside his gut whenever he caught Makoto's ambiguous stare and soft smiles. But gathering all the courage he could find within him had put him here, his whole body tingling and his head clouded. He felt _so dumb_ , wishing he'd done this so much sooner.

   “Don't do this for me,” Makoto managed in between the frantic kisses, and Haruka furrowed his brows in confusion, “don't do this out of pity...”

   “I'm not,” he slipped his hands beneath the fabric of Makoto's shirt, feeling mischievous, and dragged his hands up and down his broad back. He hesitated for a moment before pulling back, wanting to hide his face as he spoke, but Makoto's hands remained adamant on his cheeks. “I wouldn't do this unless I wanted to.” he said, his heartbeat a vigorous drum in his chest.

   Makoto bit his bottom lip slightly and nodded, hands slipping down to the curve of Haruka's neck. “How long have you, uh... wanted to?” he asked, sounding awfully coy.

   Haruka actually needed to think for a bit on that one. He looked down, a pensive wrinkle in between his brows, and concluded, “For a long while, probably. But I... I only just realised.”

   “Oh,” Makoto sighed with a little smile, feeling giddy, “I've been wanting to, too. For really long, actually.” he felt as if it was okay for him to say that now, but still had his cheeks flare in colour as the sentence fell from his lips. Really, he wanted to just shut up. Makoto felt as if he'd spat enough stupidity for today.

   “I know,” Haruka replied to his words, “I've seen you looking.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed it, please vote for it by liking/reblogging from the makoharu festival blog!! thank you! link to the post here: http://makoharufestival.tumblr.com/post/73404022985/challenge-watching-user-penis-sunset-rating-sfw


End file.
